Haines Beer Festival

Haines, Alaska

Whale Breath

Cohen Drive (21 Miles), Juneau, Alaska



It feels as though spring has finally come. After weeks of rain and grumbling locals, the sun is out in Juneau and the moist new leaves are stretching out under the surprising warmth.

Last night I spent my final evening at a house-sit 21 miles 'out the road'. I paused from cleaning to enjoy the late twilight, walking out onto the balcony overlooking steep forest down to the water. Silver light of the Alaskan summer night spread out on the calm waters below. At eleven o'clock there was still enough light to warrant a stroll down the two hundred and seventeen steep steps to the rocky beach below. I couldn't resist letting my feet, that were bare for the first time in Alaska, take me there.

Padding gently down the stairs I noted the stillness of the night, and listened for the presence of other night wanderers - squirrel? Owl? Black Bear?

"Whhhooosh" The sound, like a gust of wind, hit me. Whales, I thought. Fantastic. Carefully descending, I scanned through the tall Spruce for the tell-tale spray shooting up from the ocean horizon. There. A spray, that smeared vision of the dark glossy water behind, hung suspended - a memory of the whale's breath that breathed it a moment earlier. Then a dark curve was born from the horizontal plane, an inch ahead of the previous spray. A smooth black eclipse, finger-digit long to my eyes, but in reality a mammoth beast of warm blubbery flesh. Whale. This time I witnessed the exhalation, a violent white shout, and a second later, wwwhhooooshh, the sound-wave hit, having finally crossed the distance, the whale already sliding back into her immense underwater world.

I let out my own exhalation. I breathed deep. I looked around, and above, at my feet and to the far-off Chillkat mountain range. I put my effort into this feeling and this moment, in absorbing its clarity into my every atom. I breathed in and out. Sitting, I watched the whale travel and wondered what I knew of her. I didn't know her sex, there was a good possibility she was coming from Hawaiian water because scientists told up she had, and was on her annual trip to Skagway, to mate and return south once more. This on, where had she been? Maybe she had stayed in Alaskan waters. Maybe researchers had misjudged the signs. Nothing is certain in approximate science.

In the grace of her forward motion, the thrill of how enormous both she and her journey was, and the intimacy of her breath touching me, I was moved by these things that happen whether we observe them or not, this precious beauty.

Zipline at Eaglecrest

Dad zips through the trees, 30 feet up. What fun.


Something about the zipping got us real high.

Where they pack the brown bears closer than anywhere

Funter Bay, Admiralty Island


Bear turd?


Did you know that barnicles have the longest phalis of any living creature relative to it's body size?


Needle fish off the dock


We watched the red tide of crill swirling in whirlpools from the mass of herring bodies, swiftly chasing the direction of the next herring in circles and arcs, first this way along the dock, then in the other direction. The effect of these thousands of individuals moving in sync was as a blue heeler at cattle - rounding up the crill for their final supper before their spawn. In this mad frenzy of eating, herring jigging was successful.


Kate, Damon, and Dad enjoying some pre-dinner drinks and herring jigging. To the left of the dock the disturbance on the surface of the water is the swirling crill.

King Salmon

Mike and Kerry's, Indian Cove



Although no one else was catching fish, Dad managed once again to prove his prowess as a fisherman by catching one of the few spring King Salmons. He admitted, 'It was a fluke'.

Dad in Juneau

Breadline Bluff, Juneau

My first day at work

Gold Creek, Juneau

My first day at work for the small environmental consultants commenced at 8am. We got grabbed the sampling equipment and got in Jason's giant SUV (ute) with the representative from the government department of the environment. Before heading to the sampling site we drove a few blocks to a carpark downtown that provided a good view of the mountains above Gold Creek. 'See that crack there?' Said Jason, gesturing to the fine hairline fissure in the thick embankment of snow on the crown of the mountain range. ''Bound to be an avalanche soon'.

Below the fissure there was a heavy whack of snow, perched at the ready for gravity's steady pull to lead her down the cliff-slope and into the cravasse. We were hoping to be standing in this cravasse in a few minutes, extracting 500ml of water from Gold Creek to test for mercury content, in this, the town water supply that spewed forth from the old mine shaft.

My companions decided that the day was cold, as it had been for the last few, and therefore snow-melt was significantly retarded. It was safe to enter the avalanche zone.



On-site, an earlier avalanche was frozen in motion at the creek bed. Jason donned safety clothing to protect the sample from contamination from his mercury tooth-fillings, and we were home and hosed.

Gustavis - Getting away from the Rat Race

Gustavis, Alaksa

Between the 13th and 16th of May I went to Gustavis to visit Jeff. In summer he escapes from the tourist gridlock of Juneau to his cabin in the woods. Gustavis is unusual in that you are in the midst of Alaska, and it is absolutely flat.


On the first night we visited some friends for dinner. This involved driving to the end of a road, parking, and walking for about a mile through the forest and muskeg, spotting bear and moose prints along the way. Gustavis, unlike Juneau, has moose because it adjoins the mainland connecting Glacier Bay and Haines, and the rest of Alaska. Moose are big, curious looking creatures with soft noses that cause more fatalities than bears each year. They get pissed off if you mess with them, or suprise them, or go near their little 'uns. I have much respect for their long legs and heavy hooves.

At the cabin, little Oola was learning to plant peas with charming confidence and delight in the giant playground where she lived. Pink skirt and big rubber boots, she was a stunner. After dinner there was music making and good old fashioned merriment. The walk home throught the dusk of midnight was accompanied by the ka ka kaa of snipes - little loud birds that whizzed all around us as we navigated the boardwalk through the mud. It was magical, and only slightly distracted me from the great fear of roaming bears in the dark.



At Jeff's there was gardening to do and big trees to climb. The simple life was had at Gustavis.

The second ammendment of the American Constitution - the right to bear arms

When I questioned Damion over his attraction to guns he quoted the American Constitution. He said, 'The first ammendment is the freedom of speech, the second is the right to bear arms. I am making the most of my American liberties'. I scoffed out loud, and in my mind comforted myself with the oft-quoted Australian phrase, 'Americans are crazy'.

I had closer encounter with gun passion on my visit to Haines. It was there I went on my first armoured hike, thanks to our friend Gary (pictured). Fair enough, we were in bear country and brown bears (known in Interior Alaska as Grizzlies) as well as black were emerging from hiberntion to seek green sping shoots to alleviate their 6 month constipation, and give birth to the cubs they'd been brewing over the long winter. Both constipation and new bubs makes a bear rather tetchy, thus in this context a gun can seem a good idea.

But here we enter the grey area of Safety and Precautions To Be Taken. After talking with a range of Alaskans I have decided that safety is matter of style. I am still exploring the notion that if you expect the worse to happen then fate is far more likely to fulfill your expectations.

Let's discuss Safety Style: A hiker chooses their bear protection. This can be:
1. Nothing, Nada, Niente
2.Reading 'what to do in case of bear attack'
3. Making noise when walking to prevent startling a bear and thus encouraging an attack
4. Carying bear repellant - an extra strong pepper spray
5. Carrying a gun to shoot the bear if attacked
6. Carrying a gun to shoot yourself in case of an attack

I am of the opinion that a gun is going to spoil your chances of a happy ending. But then again I have the belief that guns inherently bring danger to any situation rather than safety. I do not feel safer with a gun around, but there are many who feel the opposite. Here I am witness to a society that has taught it's citizens that guns means protection of an individual, when I see only that an individual with a gun means a threat to a whole community. Or bear. Gary felt safe with a gun. He also felt safe with us wearing bear repellant. I am a novice in Alaskan forests and feel safer with an experienced guide, and experienced Gary is.



That day we were not hunting bears but the shy Calypso Orchid, a beautiful purple flower that blooms for only a short time in spring. There was a rumour going around Haines that Calypso might be offering a peek at her purple, but we had donned bear protection and trekked the steep mountainside to her garden, Calypso remained hidden. Wrapped up in a delicate green mantle, Calypso was tucked up and away, waiting for a little more sunny encouragement before showing some color. I don't blame her - Spring 2006 is proving to be all about cold, snow, and rain.

Sister Visit

My sister Alice visited me for a week in May. I was caught between Haines and Juneau - trying to get a job as a river guide in the former, but stuck in the latter. I was experiencing intense 'what should I do' angst, born of a confusion between the 'fun summer job' and the 'real job'.

Unfortunately Alice found me at this point. We went fishing with Damon.

A Few Friends

I have made two real friends in Juneau, Rick and Jeff. I met these two at Church in my first week in Alaska during the Folk Music Festival. In the community room of Juneau Uniting Church, folks had gathered on the Friday to play tunes and contra-dance. At midday a call was made, and like the dance call, each person followed quickly the lead: to set out lunch. Within five minutes the little dance hall was transformed into a room for a feast, packed with round tables. I had come to the jam to sit at the back of the musicians and fiddle along as best I could to the unfamiliar tunes. Now, I stood aukwardly to the side of the hall, helping to 'hold up the wall' and looking out for a friendly face. I spied three very nice looking men sitting at a table. Two had yellow t-shirts on, one with overalls over these. There were beards and laughter and one of them smiled at me twice, so I just had to cut in: 'Can I sit here?' End of story. From then I hung out with Rick and Jeff and Ryan, but our time was all too short because being young wholesome types, they get right out of Juneau during the summer time, retreating back to their respective cabins in the woods. Jeff goes to Gustavis and Rick goes to Shelter Island.

The Hooligans are Running

Haines, Alaska



This morning it snowed and later when it cleared up we went for a walk along the Chilkoot River. Lucky for me, the Hooligans are running. The hooligan is an extremely oily fish - in the realm of sardine oiliness. Their migration up the rivers to spawn in the exact same place they were spawned kick-starts the whole spring process - first they come, then the salmon - the King come first, followed later by Silver, Pink, and Chum.

The profile of the river was marked with thick, black ribbons of swarms of hooligans. At the mouth of the river were sea lions working in a team to circle the fish and then eat to their heart's content. There was also a little seal, bobbing up now and again, but keeping it all very low-key with the pretator sea lion around. It was thrilling to watch such a suscinct demonstration of the food chain. Jeff reminded us to keep our eyes open for the keen black carving of dorsal fins through the water - the calling-card of orcas who extend that cycle as the predators of the sea lions, waiting beyond the mouth of the river in the deeper water for their chance to participate in this serious business of feeing.

The ribbon of Hooligans flowed against the current and up the river, black and silver and shimmery. I broke this ribbon of flowing fish with a long-handled net, and gently scooped in the direction of the river's flow, against the direction of the Hooligan flow. Both the fish and I worked together in getting them caught in the net. A few made small attempts to turn around, but most, eager to find their birthplace and relieve their bulging bellies of eggs (the next generation), ruined their chances by soldiering-on and into my net. It was the easiest catch I have ever landed.

We ate them for dinner fried in the pan. Yum. Hooligan are also called Candlefish becasue their high oil content enables them to be used as candles. It is said that all one must to is secure a wick in the dried flesh and put a match to it. I am unsure whether this description is figurative or literal. Certainly it is an oily fish. In eating these appetisers - omega-3 bombs stuffed with fish roe, I had the sense that we were eating a super-foods. Rich in god-knows-what-but-it-tastes-like-life. Over a mouthful of this wealth I glimpsed a deeper understanding of their importance to the Native Alaskans. Parked on the shores of the Chilkoot were many Native owned trucks, their drivers in waders or just boots, armed with thrownets, scoopnets, and buckets. We saw Natives of all discriptions - teams of fit youngsters working togther, adults, and one ancient husband and wife who had come on this day, the first day of the Hooligan run, to do what they had done every year for, it looked like, about 90 years. The husband was doing the work of relocated Hooligan from the river into their bucket. The wife, bent over her cane, was assisted by her stronger husband, both shuffling on the uneven stones in the bed of the river. They were old but in the thick of it. It touched my soul to see it, and I figured it must be a pretty important event in their lives. According to Jeff the running of the Hooligan has an almost spiritual significance. Imagine it. It's been a long winter and you've almost used up your supply of dried fish and the new devils claw buds are nothing more than a little bit of salad, and suddenly there's an enormously rich food working itself up the river and into your bucket! The new season! Survival!



Along the banks many pickup trucks had been filled with with fish. There were literally truckloads of them. Natives take the fish and 'render' them - leave them for a week in a vat where it starts to rot, then they boil it down and get all the oil out of it. They use the oil for a variety of cooking purposes, but it contributes to flavoring many of their dishes.

Going to Haines - A Real Alaskan Town

Journey from Juneau to Haines, Alaska

On Sunday 30th April I took the Alaska Marine Highway Ferry to the town of Haines, population 1,811. On the ferry journey into Alaska one month ago I met two lovely individual travellers, Robin and Eli. Both talked of Haines being a beautiful little place to live. Robyn said the views had brought tears to the eyes of a few visitors she had shown around. Eli said Haines missed much of the summer tourist swarms that pollute downtown Juneau, spilling from the cruise ships that double the town's population in one foul swoop. Since arriving in Juneau, Haines was on my mind. It became the town I imagined living in - South enough to miss most of the summer mosquitoes, North enough to classify as 'real Alaska', with all the bells and whistles that accompany this title (mostly glaciers, mountains, whales, forests, people toting guns, eating home-caught smoked salmon, etc).

It was snowing in Juneau the Sunday evening we boarded the boat. Robyn and her partner Jeff had been in Juneau for a course in plant grafting and reconaissance tour of all the larger, more bountiful shops, so their van was packed with everything from brassiers to peat moss. On the ferry I took my up my favorite spot: the top rear deck under the solarium glow, wrapped in my sleeping bag, reclined on a deckchair. From there I oversaw our slow separation from Juneau and pondered my Alaskan adventure novel, Into The Wild.

A Classic Dichotomy: Dreaming and Experiencing. A case study of sailng

For at least a year and a half I have been thinking about sailing. There are two main reasons for this. Firstly, Darwin, surrounded by an ocean with limited swimming availability, encourages fantasies about getting on top of the water, as a compromise for not being able to get in it. Secondly, I have spoken with a handful of admirable, adventurous women who have sailed and lived to tell tales that make me want a piece of the action.

Sailing appeals to my romantic aesthetic. Sailing appeals to my desire for challenging situations. My dreams of sailing include my assumption that the strong desire to be on the water will be the antidote for my proven physical ailment (seasickness) once on the water.

Yesterday I had the opportunity to sail with my Juneau friend Rick. Here is an excerpt from my journal last night:

'Sailing today. I thought I was going to die. I almost cried when Rick asked if I was OK.

I had no points of reference for how safe stuff was and what was normal (heel, wind, cold, guts, closeness to rocks). It's so loose out there. No rules. Just your wits to save you. Not enough fuel to get anywhere - and the story of the gas tank unscrewed with (maybe) a plank of wood to protect the hull from the sharp corner of the heavy gas tank, loose in the hull as the boat heeled from side to side. I was really scared. I'm glad I'm alive.

'I didn't cry. And I helped where i could. And I didn't get in the way. I didn't have fun, but I didn't lie about it either. I may have lost my sense of humou and that is a shame, but I didn't treat anyone badly, or cop out, or ask to go home. I dealt with it.

'Do i have a strong mind? I don't know about that. I doubted, yes. But everything was relying on two people who had displayed lax safety standards. I felt unempowered to help or assist. I think I did OK but I feel disappointed in myself. For not enjoying the adventure. By wishing every second that it was all over. By being so moved by the fear that i couldn't even rebound into hyperactivity once I was safe - like a dented tin-can I just stayed humourless and a little distanced from the two men who had initiated the voyage that made me afraid. Like they'd done something to me. There's a part of me that thinks them irresponsible. I could have been a lot warmer, had more clothes on, generally been more prepared. But that's the opposite of their style.'

What does this say for my future of sailing home from America? Well, that I will dress warmer.